


Evening Rain

by moobloomsupremacy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A series of oneshots, But open to interpretation, Canon Compliant, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, I’ll add tags as I go, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, dt but they’re not famous youtubers (yet), no explicit romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27574199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moobloomsupremacy/pseuds/moobloomsupremacy
Summary: A oneshot in Dream's perspective, about meeting George for the first time.- nanowrimo 2020!
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Evening Rain

**Author's Note:**

> heya!  
> this is my third mcyt story in less than a month. do i need sleep? definitely. do i need help? probably.  
> the usual psa: respecting content creators is the most important job of a fan! if anyone in this story expresses discomfort with fanfiction, i will delete this story. this is not meant to be a romance fic, the tags are for reach. as always, it’s open to the reader’s interpretation of everyone’s relationships.  
> i hope you enjoy!! have a wonderful day.  
> \- author (she/her)

Dream remembers the exact day that he decided he was going to make friends with GeorgeNotFound, and he can’t decide whether or not he would change any part of that crazy, best day ever.  
It was March 11th, a chill spring day that brought with it crisp humidity and the threat of evening rain. A day where Dream was more than happy to sit on voice call with his friends for hours on end, playing video games, chatting, or even just staying there, silent, as they each busied themselves with their lives.

Sapnap was a little cranky that morning, Dream remembers, having stayed up far too late screaming at 12-year-olds on some first-person shooter. “It’s your own fault,” Dream had lectured him, sick and tired of his profane grumbling about lack of sleep in the chat, “for being so bad that you get butthurt losing to literal children.”  
“Yeah, well, I’m still ‘literal children’ too, buddy, and you almost are too, so watch out or I’ll call child protective services on you for torturing me with sleep deprivation.”  
Still, he had woken up a little more when Badboyhalo joined their call, and they met on the Minecraft server they had been casually building that year.

Dream’s character hops around on screen, collecting wood and listening to Bad coo over a baby fox that he had found in the spruce forest by their house, when an unfamiliar name pops up in the chat.  
“GeorgeNotFound joined? Who’s that?” Dream leans forward in his chair to squint at the line of yellow text.  
Sapnap, the admin of the world, sighs. “I’ll kick whoever it is, gimme a minute…”  
“Wait, don’t!” Bad quickly interjects. “That’s my friend George.” His voice grows sheepish. “I, uh, said he could hang out here today, and play with us a little.”  
He’s met with flabbergasted silence from both ends. 

Dream scoffs, processing this new information. “You invited someone to the server and didn’t tell us?”  
“It sounds mean when you put it like that! He asked me about it the other day, said he was looking for a new group to play with, and I just brought it up. He’s a really sweet guy, I promise… he’s from England, he’s a year or two younger than me, and he’s a good player, he’ll help us out,” Bad takes a deep breath, “and I didn’t want to say no to him. Don’t tell him I said this, but he sounded kinda lonely when he asked.”

Dream waits for Sapnap to make a snappy remark, but he doesn’t. The green line around his icon pops up as he gives a small cough, then vanishes. Dream runs a hand through his hair, exasperated but also unsurprised at Bad’s kindness. He couldn’t say no to anything.  
“Is he joining our Discord call?” Sapnap finally asks, a hint of annoyance in his voice.  
Bad inhales. “Shoot, I forgot about that. Let me text him real quick.”  
Dream tears his eyes away from the Discord window and back to the game, where night has fallen in the trio’s little village. Dream’s unmoving character is being beaten to death by a zombie, and he hurriedly moves to the inside of his house before he loses all his experience.

In the corner of the screen, there’s a new chat message.  
GeorgeNotFound: hi (:  
Dream types out a response, finger hovering over the enter key for a moment before he sends it.  
Dreamwastaken: Hi  
Badboyhalo: heya George!!  
Suddenly, a cheerful tone from the left monitor tells Dream that someone joined their voice call. He goes silent, waiting.  
“Hi…”

It’s the smooth, tentative voice of a young man, the trace of a British accent lingering in his pronunciation of the word. Dream realizes that it’s going to be up to him to make this as not-awkward as possible. He adjusts his headphones like a knight with their shield before battle, and clears his throat.  
“Hey, how are you doing?”

“Pretty good thanks,” replies the stranger, obviously relieved to hear a response. “I’m George. Bad invited me here, he’s talked about you guys a lot.”  
“Awww, are we your bestest friends, Bad?” Sapnap finally pipes up. “That’s so cuuuute, I hope he told you how hot I am.”  
“Sapnap!” chides Bad, “We have a guest here! Sorry George, they’re not like this usually…”  
“Yes, we are,” say Dream and Sapnap in unison. Bad makes an exasperated noise, but George laughs. The sound is light, and it makes Dream smile. He makes up his mind to be nice to this George guy.

“So how much Minecraft have you played before? Are you new to it, I mean?” Dream takes an iron sword from his chest and oneshots the zombie that was attacking him earlier, running around each of the wooden houses in search of more. He spies a name tag running towards him from spawn: GeorgeNotFound.  
His player is wearing a blue hoodie and white clout goggles, and has pale skin topped with dark brown hair. To Dream’s surprise, he already has a cobblestone pickaxe in his hands.

“Nah, I’ve been playing for a few years now. I’m not a PVP god or anything but,” George tosses Dream half a stack of string and two smokers, “I’m not too bad. I’ll manage. Whoah, is this your village?” He sprints off to see the trio’s circle of huts next to a large lake. Dream takes the items he left, feeling just a little impressed. Bad scouted a good new recruit, it seems. The man in question returns to base as well, followed by Sapnap, who had been out mining iron. Their characters hop after George’s in silence as he explores their bases one by one.

“How long have you guys been working on this? Have you beat the game yet?”  
“Nah,” Sapnap explains, “we’ve been trying to explore a little, get stuff, work up some levels for enchants. Dream’s our— our resident speedrunner.”  
George makes an interested noise. “That’s cool. What’s your record time, Dream?”  
“Um, Sapnap’s hyping it up too much, but yeah, I guess speedrunning is my main thing. I can do under 40 minutes in most versions, under 30 in some. I want to go for the world record someday, but it’s just a pipe dream, really.” Dream feels embarrassed sharing what George probably thinks is a lame goal, and he can practically see Sapnap’s knowing grin all the way from Texas. Thankfully, Bad interjects.  
“Guys, let’s help George make a house before he gets jumped by a spider. Do any of you have wood?”

They spend about half an hour dividing and conquering to find resources for George’s house. Bad, the best builder out of the group, makes it look aesthetically pleasing alongside the rest of the buildings, and Dream contributes by placing two pale pink tulips by the door.  
“I love that colour!” says Bad happily. “Nice one, Dream. Sapnap, stay away from the roof, it looks fine without mushrooms on it.”  
“Pink or white?” mumbles George, barely enough for his mic to pick up. 

Dream frowns. “Sorry?”  
“Oh,” George sounds slightly flustered, “I was wondering what colours the tulips are. I can’t see stuff like that sometimes.”  
“Well,” Dream replies, interested by this new piece of info, “they’re kind of a light pink, but they’re pretty close to white, yeah. So… you can’t see colours?”  
“I can see, like, green and yellow and blue and stuff,” explains George, “but I can’t see red at all. I mean, I know when something’s red, because it’s a different colour to me, but whatever actual red looks like, I won’t ever know.” Dream smiles at George’s nervous rambling. He’s starting to warm up to this guy.  
“And your favourite colour is blue, right George?” Bad prompts. Dream grins at how hard Bad’s clearly trying to help them get along. It’s like hearing an elementary school teacher at work.

“Yup,” says George, making a popping noise on the ‘p’.  
Sapnap barks out a sudden laugh, still trying to put mushrooms on George’s roof without Bad noticing. “What colour is Dream’s skin to you, dude? Is it like, grey or something?”  
Dream pushes his headphones back and rubs his temples. Out of the three of them, Sapnap’s the one most likely to offend George, which Dream realizes he doesn’t want to happen. He hasn’t gotten a read on George’s humour yet, and wants to make at least a decent impression.  
George, however, lets out a massive snort at the question, turning to look at Dream onscreen. “Honestly? He looks like piss.”  
The call dissolves into laughter, Bad’s “language!” lost in the background.

They play for hours and hours without stopping, but Dream doesn't mind the way time loses its meaning. With the gentle thrum of rain starting up against his bedroom window around midday, he knows he’s got all the time in the world. Nobody else seems too keen on leaving either. George fits in with them with ease, replying to their jokes with witty comebacks of his own and quickly catching up to them in terms of gameplay. His hero moment comes in the Nether, when Dream has his head in a chest and his back to a corridor.

“DREAM! LOOK OUT!” The high pitched screech launches Dream back in his chair, his headphones unplugging from the monitor as he wrenches his head away from the screen. Once he gets them back on, Sapnap’s howling with laughter, and Bad is chiding George for his lack of volume control. 

“I’m sorry,” mumbles George, sounding genuinely worried, “I get kind of loud sometimes. There was a Wither skeleton coming at you, but Bad’s got it now.”  
Dream can’t find it in himself to be annoyed— it's too funny. “No problem,” he wheezes, “I think I just got all my daily required exercise. My heart rate just hit 200 at least.”

“Oh, cool,” giggles George, a sunny sound that matches up with Sapnap’s booming cackles perfectly. Dream’s smile doesn’t fade for a few minutes, and even then, he feels as relaxed as any other normal day with Bad and Sapnap. Like there was always an empty space in their friend group, just waiting for someone like George. By the time that the newcomer announces he needs to get some sleep, Dream feels like he’s known him for years. “Right, timezones,” he remembers. “Sounds good.”  
“I had fun today,” George tells them all, “thanks for letting me hang out, I know it must have been kinda weird.”

“We’re always weird,” shrugs Sapnap, “you just added that British flavour. It was cool to meet you, though, dude, you’re definitely part of the Dream Team now.”  
“Please don’t call us that,” Dream groans, rubbing his eyes, “you know how I feel about your stupid little nicknames.”  
“I like it,” George pipes up, and Dream goes a little pink, thankful that no one can see him.

“Yeah, see, mister Dream, our guest likes the team name, so it’s obviously superior to the Muffinteers or whatever you and Bad’s was. Anyways, bye George!”  
“Thanks again—”  
Dream suddenly realizes he doesn’t want him to go. He doesn’t want this to be all he hears of GeorgeNotFound. He summons his courage, and speaks.  
“Wait, guys,”

“Yeah?” asks Bad innocently. Dream pauses. How does he say this without sounding weird?  
“Could George join us again? On the server I mean? Only if you want to, though,” he rushes to add to George, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to, I mean, it’s only a game, and you probably have lots of other things to do—”

“Of course!” George’s voice is closer, like he’s moved closer to his microphone. “I wasn’t going to just take your stuff, build a house, and then leave. I’m a gentleman. College is boring, and Minecraft is cooler.”  
Bad assures the both of them, “Yeah, when I said you could join, I meant forever! I just told Dream and Sapnap one day so that they wouldn’t freak out at me too much. I knew you’d win them over, Georgie.”

Georgie. There’s so much about him that Dream still doesn’t know, and as they all bid each other goodnight and leave the game and the voice call, Dream’s mind is already whirring with questions he wants to ask the Brit. Most of all, though, he just wants to hear him talk. His voice is… soothing, he thinks, then immediately shuts himself down with, no, that’s weird as hell.

Dream remembers how he laid in bed that spring night, listening to the same playlist he’d had on loop for weeks straight, but feeling like something had changed. For the first time in a long time, he had met a new person, someone he actually wanted to be friends with. And boy, was Dream determined to succeed.  
Congratulations, GeorgeNotFound, he thought to himself, smiling at his ceiling in the dark, you’re one of us now.


End file.
